Who are you?
by Shinalisz
Summary: Sherlock and John stumble upon - literally - a strange girl when chasing someone. John instantly takes pity on her, but Sherlock seems down right fascinated by her. Will he ever figure out her true nature? Is she a friend or a foe?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! This is kinda my first fanfiction. I have to say, I don't know if I will finish it, because, frankly I'm not sure where the story is going... It just sort of popped into my head. Anyway... I hope you will enjoy it, and reviews are welcome. **

**Also.. If anyone would like to voluntear as a beta reader, I would be very thankful. English is my second language, and I may make some mistakes. Until then... bare with me... **

'John, hurry up, we are loosing him!' yelled the running detective, as he turned at the street corner and then he promptly stopped barely avoiding to crush the person he bumped into and sent to the ground.

'Holy...!' cursed a young female voice as the doctor caught up with Sherlock and found a most peculiar scene. There was a girl on the ground, stacks of books scattered around her where she had dropped them, and then there was Sherlock on all fours above the poor girl, just getting up.

'Damn, we lost him! It will be another week to track him down after this...' cursed the detective again, as he ran frustrated fingers through his hair – and all the while ignoring the girl on the ground – noted

John. He sighed and stepped closer to the redhead, pulling her up from where she sat, a bit confused.

'We are sorry miss, are you ll right?' he said, and flashed an angry look at Sherlock. The detective looked back at him, unamused.

The girl stood then gathered her books hurriedly, then started to walk away, muttering an 'I'm OK.' as she passed by them. John watched her sympathetically, but the detective took a few long strides to catch up with her and extended a hand to her shoulder as a way of stopping the girl. She turned, a questioning look in her eyes.

'Sir?'

'You are obviously not OK.' the detective said.

'I'am, Sir, perfectly fine.' she smiled back reassuringly.

'Your breath caught, as you first put weight on your right foot, so you are obviously in pain every time you step on it. You have bags under your eyes, you are pale and your stomach is constantly growling, from which I think you haven't eaten in at least two days. You are not a homeless, since you don't smell bad, and have decent clothing, and you are carrying used books, probably to be sold for a little money to eat. You have an American-ish accent, but not quite, so I assume you are a foreigner...' as Sherlock deduced all that from the girl, she just looked at him, a still smiling mask on her face, desperately trying not to give anything away. Which meant that there was something to give away...

'Everything is fine, sir, would you be so kind as to let me go?' she asked, trying her best to be as polite as she could be.

Sherlock then caught her right arm, and yanked her hard into the same direction, which forced the girl to side step with her right leg to keep her balance. Sherlock watched as the girl realized his intention at the exact time he reached for her. Fast thinking – he noted. He still stared at the girl's face and didn't miss the flood of thoughts passing on her face :"tired...slow reflexes...had already reached me...too late to do anything now...last option: brace yourself."

The girl hissed through her clenched teeth as all her weight suddenly dropped on her right foot, and managed to stumble into Sherlock and not the ground, hugging her books to herself with her left hand, so she wouldn't drop them again. The detective steadied her again, a curious look on his face.

'What my friend here means is, is there anything we can help you with? We owe you that much after this...' John stepped in, before Sherlock completely crushed the poor girl's facade.

She looked at John, a bit uncertain, then back at Sherlock, then at John again.

'I... Well...' she struggled, and it was painfully obvious to John that this girl was not used to asking for, or accepting help. He gave her a warm smile, trying to encourage her.

She sighed and looked at the ground, defeated.

'I was kicked out of my flat since I couldn't pay the rent for a while now... That was two days ago. I slept in parks, and all my belongings were stolen, except for my books here... so... if you could just put me up for the night, I'd be very grateful.' she said.

John's eyes filled with pity and too the girl by the arm, helping to support her weight. She let him...

Barely..

'It's all right. We can do that, and maybe when we get home, you could tell us more about yourself.'


	2. Chapter 2

It was a twenty minute ride back to Baker street, and the girl was quiet and somewhat relieved, sitting between the two man in the cab. As they went up the stairs Sherlock was constantly glancing at her face curiously. John noticed, and frowned at that reaction, not quite understanding what perked the detective's interests in a poor girl, far from home, and apparently on a good road leading down to living on the streets. Sherlock however was totally fascinated by her. He read the same analytical expressions from her face, as he did when he yanked her to prove his point. The redhead assessed her surrounding, but subtly, smoothly, not wanting to call attention to herself. She behaved like any young suspicious girl would, if she was suddenly offered a place to stay. But something was off...

Then Sherlock realized. She wasn't afraid of them. Not the slightest.

What she masked as the frightened girl's attempt at spotting any traps, was actually the opposite: a completely collected and calm way of scanning the area for potential choke points and places of possible ambush.

She wasn't worried about John or him. She was worried about being followed.

Sherlock could barely suppress a grin. This should be interesting...

But what's with the professionalism? It can't be military training. No. He would be able to tell if the girl was a previous solider. What then?

They entered the living room, and John quickly ushered the girl to the kitchen table that was – for once – totally clean of experiments. Sherlock took his time taking off his coat, so he could stay mostly behind the girl and scanned her from head to toe.

Dark reddish hair, probably dyed, long and unruly, slightly curling. A hair band around her wrist, so she can quickly tie it up if needed. Needed for what?... Long faded, ragged jeans, loose around her legs and secured in place with a belt. Simple black wool jumper, that seemed just a bit big for her, black sneakers. Every single item served the same purpose: easy to move around in, run, jump, or do anything like that, without calling unwanted attention to itself. Of course, all these meant nothing against Sherlock. In fact, this only strengthened his previous conclusion, that the girl was afraid of being followed, or most likely she was on the run from someone who required this level of caution.

The detective walked to the table, knocking down an umbrella on the way, just behind the girl. If she was followed, she should react strongly to sudden sounds around her. Paranoia is the essence of the state. And if the loud thud wasn't enough, Sherlock stumbled a bit, catching the table with each hands on both sides of the redhead where she sat. He leaned into her neck a little from behind and said an 'I'm sorry' next to the girl's ear. If he was right, she would hardly be able to put up a mask anymore, due to the huge override on her nerves.

But all he saw was a sudden tension and maybe a look of panic in the girl's eyes, that passed so quickly into neutrality, that it was hardly ever there. The detective was most impressed. He looked up to see John studying the situation, and he could almost hear the man starting to develop thoughts of suspicion about his little 'poor girl'.

'So, what is your name?' Sherlock asked with a wide smile on his face, passing a steaming cup of tea made by Watson, to the girl.

'Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners. My name is Lily.' she answered with the same smile and extended her hand for a handshake to Sherlock and Watson.

'I'm Sherlock Holmes, and my flatmate is Dr. John Watson.' the detective introduced them, and then raised an eyebrow in question. 'Lily...?'

'Just call me Lily.' She said apologetically and added: 'As you said I'm not from here, or America. You wouldn't want to learn to pronounce my family name.' She smiled.

After that, mostly John and Lily made a little small talk about her. Turned out she was from somewhere in Eastern Europe, and came here to work and study, since her country couldn't quite offer her the possibilities she wanted. Unfortunately it seemed very hard to get into university so she decided to work for a year and try again.

'Where did you wanted to go?' Sherlock asked curiously.

'Oxford.' She answered.

'Not the easiest place to get into. I can imagine it was too difficult for you.'

She frowned, and shook her head. 'No, no actually I passed. In fact I was ranking in the top ten when it came to points. I just couldn't pay for tuition...'

Both the men in the room stared at her, then finally John broke the silence.

'You passed the entrance exam of one of the best universities in whole Europe and we found you wandering on the streets?' he said in disbelief. 'This world is a most unfair place...'

Sherlock didn't miss the genuine bitterness of Lily's word as she said 'You have no idea...'

He didn't have time to comment on that tough, because the door suddenly swung open and a furious Mycroft and two of his men strode into the flat. The older Holmes pointed towards Lily as soon as he saw her and ordered his men in a dangerous voice. 'Get her. I don't care if she is harmed or not. Just get her!'


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, this is not a complete chapter I know, but I'm falling asleep on the keyboard, even tough I have so many ideas... Now I need sleep... Still I wanted to update, so here it is:))**

Three days had passed since the day Lily was taken by Mycroft. To the girl's credit, she had went down fighting. The two men had been twice her size, nevertheless she had managed to knock out both, with what seemed like some kind of martial techniques. Sherlock had noticed instantly how she went for the vital, or softer points, taking advantage of her own speed compared to the men's strength. The power of the brain, tactics, vs pure bodily power. The detective liked that. But the girl couldn't have win anyway, since Mycroft had been there. While she had been busy twisting one of the men's arm making him crumble at her feet, the older Holmes had produced a syringe and a few moment later the two men, Mycroft, a completely limp Lily and the black limousine had been gone, leaving behind a confused duo.

'Care to explain something Mycroft?' Sherlock said as he turned to his just arrived brother at the door. To the question, an agitated John has exited the kitchen.

'You should, Mycroft! What have you done to the girl?' The doctor asked, quiet anger ringing in his voice.

The man in question simply closed the door behind himself, and made his way to sit in one of the arm chairs, followed by John sitting in the other, and Sherlock putting his violin on the sofa and taking a seat beside it.

'You should not be concerned about the girl's well being Dr. Watson.' The man said coldly, making a steeple of his fingers.'I assure you that my actions were according to your best interests. I have reason to believe that this girl was here for nothing else but to assassinate both of you.

Everything seemed to start falling into place as Sherlock recited in his brain their encounter. But something was not right. Something was still missing. He looked at his brother pointedly.

'You have her now. I bet you tried to interrogate her already. Any progress?' He asked, already knowing the answer.

Mycroft fidgeted slightly. 'I..-' He started a little less composed that before.'..have yet to make a real impression on her. That is why I came here today. I think that you might be able to help me.'

'Take us to her.' Said John, a sudden and not often heard authority in his voice. Sherlock realized that the doctor was still struggling to believe his brother's accusation of the girl being an assassin. In their long friendship, the detective always depended on his doctor in questions of emotion and sympathy. And that was the only thing still missing from the picture: the emotional side of the girl's case. Maybe John was right to doubt Mycroft? And if he was, then why exactly? What had he seen in the girl?

Not long after that conversation, the black limousine with the three men, pulled up beside an abandoned old warehouse in the outskirt of London. A perfect location for what it is used for. Almost no traffic, dead surroundings without any place to hide effectively. John brow furrowed in worry as his suspicion seemed to be right. Now he started to understand what Mycroft meant under interrogation.

They were led into the rusty warehouse which consisted of one huge room. Electricity barely managed to keep the overhead neon lights running. The walls and the ground were both covered in dust and filth of various kind, and despite the mild autumn weather it was almost freezing inside. As they reached the very back of the room, John and even Sherlock stopped in his tracks.

There was a heap of stained rugs on the floor in the corner, a few steps away an old toilet and a sink, both looked like they were recycled from among the garbage. Between the two there was a metal chain implanted in a huge concrete block by the wall. On the other end of the chains were Lily. Her wrists and ankles were manacled, the four chains united into one, so close to each other, that she wouldn't have been able to stand up straight. She only had a simple black panty and a ragged, torn tank top to cover herself. Her hair was messy, and there were a couple of bruises on her left side as if she had been dragged on the ground. Her right ankle was swollen, no doubt from the time when Sherlock crashed into her, but seemed more serious now, like she had been forced to stand on it for a long time. Cold shivers ran through her body from time to time, as she was looking up at Sherlock and John, with a questioning and maybe a slightly hopeful look, and then at Mycroft with pure contempt. One of the guards standing along the wall stepped forward and dragged the girl to her feet. Silence fell.

'How do you greet your master?' Asked Mycroft in a low and dangerous voice.

Lily vinced as she accidentally stood on her right leg, then looked up at the older Holmes brother with a cold and controlled smile.

'Pathetic. You are still trying to make this psychological play work...' Something wild flashed in her eyes as she spoke. 'When will you realise this is not working on me?'

Sherlock watched as his brother face split into a wolfish grin.

'It will work, one way... or another.' He said and gestured to the guard.

The man suddenly moved, kicking into the girls knees from behind, sending her to the ground, kneeling. Then he grabbed her neck and pushed it forward until she was forced to bow.

'Mycroft!' Said Sherlock, beating John to it.

The guard let the girl go as his boss indicated then.

'I had already told you everything I know. I have nor reason nor intention to hide anything.'Lily said, as she scrambled into a sitting position by the wall.

'I have difficulty in believing you tough. I am puzzled. That's why I brought them. Three wholly different person will judge your story. My brother, John and myself. Then we will discuss what we think.'

'Then let's start, shall we.' Sing songed the girl with tired sarcasm.'I had been with the Agency. The CIA I mean. Special training... Spying... etc... Loved it really. Then about six months ago, they tried to get me to assassinate two men, -Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I refused, they threatened me, I escaped, been hiding all over Europe, ended up here in London. All of my accounts were freezed, so I ended up being broke. Then, I ran into the reason I have this whole trouble in the first place. You. I also provided you with all the names that were linked to this assassination case, you can look them up if you want.'She finished impatiently, and Sherlock had a feeling that this wasn't the second or third time she told the story. 'Now. Either dispose of me, or let me go free. Just do something... 'Then her collected face faltered a little.'I didn't want any trouble. I just wanted to disappeare from the Agency's radar...'


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the reviews, guys:) I'm glad you like the story. This is just a short chapter, a completion of the previous one. If I finish my translation work before falling asleep, I might update again today. **

As Sherlock listened to the girl's story, he was more and more convinced, that she was telling the truth. All facts pointed to the same direction as her own words did. Right then...

'Mycroft, please. What evidence do you have against this girl?' Asked John in a slightly impatient voice, gesturing towards Lily. 'She is obviously telling the truth. Why would she let herself be taken in by us, if she could just shoot us from afar? She wasn't going to kill us... ' Reasoned the doctor.

'What do you think, my dear brother?' Asked Mycroft turning towards the detective, after thinking through John's words.

'She is telling the truth, obviously.' Sherlock said matter of fact. 'Instead of taking advantage of our meeting to kill us, she tried to get away first. As we went home, she wasn't relieved, that she has an extraordinary chance to carry out her supposed "order", rather she was constantly scanning the area for possible tails and surveillance, afraid of being tracked, and tried to mask this behavior. If she was trying to get to us she wouldn't have any reason to do that.' The detective finished, and stepped closer to his brother, getting into his face. 'Now... Where are the keys, Mycroft?' He asked as he extended his hand.

The older Holmes seemed utterly speechless for a split second, then smiled knowingly at Sherlock.

'You found a new game, didn't you?' He said as he produced the keys to the manacles.

Sherlock just looked at him without answering, and taking the keys he extended them to John.

'Please, John, if you will..'

'Gladly.' The doctor said, glaring daggers at Mycroft, and took the keys to free the poor girl.

When the heavy iron chairs were taken off, Lily felt incredibly relieved both physically and mentally. She even gave a grateful smile to John and Sherlock, and barely, but accepted John help when she stood up. Her leg hurt like hell, pain blinding her nerves every time she took a step, but she tried anyway. She managed a slow walk, and tried to persuade John she did not need help. John seemed unconvinced tough. Sherlock fell into step beside them, and looked the shivering girl up and down before taking off his long coat and draping it over her originally strong, now hunched and trembling shoulders. Lily looked surprised, but didn't try to return the coat. She looked more and more pained though.

'Three...'Sherlock started counting. 'Two.' John looked at him questioningly, the detective flashed a look towards the girl. 'One...' And sure enough, Lily reached her limits right by that point, and collapsed into John's arms. The doctor barely managed to catch the falling girl, and looked back at Sherlock expectantly. The detective sighed and made a face, but he gestured to John impatiently to give him the limp girl. He took Lily into his arms like he would a child, and John marveled to the extent of delicacy Sherlock showed, by not simply slinging her body over his shoulder.

'Oh, yes. You might want to give her something to eat, and maybe a checkup would be useful too.' Mycroft called after them. 'And let me offer you a ride back to your place.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the short chapter again. There will be more coming, maybe tonight. Also, thank you for the reviews! :-))) I had no idea some of you liked this story this much, but I'm very glad. ^^ Reviews make me happy. :D And more motivated to update. **

** By the way, sorry if there are some grammar mistakes. As I said English is not my native language, altough I do go to a bilingual school... Feel free to point out any mistakes! **

** There will be more fighting at some point, and if you are curious, Lily is using mostly Wing Tsun kung fu techniques because of it's great self defense quality. (And because I practice that too... ^^)**

Sherlock carried the girl to the sofa, and gently put her down on it. He was eager to ask questions, but he also realized that in her current state it would be inappropriate to do that, supposing the girl would even wake up.

'I think we should wake her, so I can do a check up on her. Also, as Mycroft suggested, we should get her something to eat.' Said John taking off his coat, and coming to stand next to the limp for of the girl. The detective didn't miss the anger in his friend's voice as he pronounced his brother's name.

'You shouldn't be so angry at Mycroft. He is an idiot, but he believed he was protecting us. His actions were completely logical under the circumstances.' Sherlock said.

'Logical?' John asked exasperated. 'He was practically _torturing_ a young girl. Where does that fit in as Logical?'

Sherlock looked at him, impatient, like a teacher would at a particularly slow child. 'Not only a young girl, John. An agent, a spy, maybe actually an assassin or whatever the CIA trained her for. She is most likely unofficial, because Mycroft has access to Agency data, and he wouldn't make this huge a fuss if she was listed there.'

John seemed to calm down a little as anger was replaced by reason. 'But what's with that role play? Calling himself "Master" and treating her like a slave...'

'As I mentioned,' Lily said, as she tried to sit up but thought better of it, and let her head lie against the pillow on the sofa.'It is a psychological play. A kind of interrogation technique, a way to break someone's will and force them to submit and reveal whatever it is the interrogator is looking for.' She finished in an even voice. 'Of course, this takes a long time, but the advantage is that until then your target is not running around free at least, and you get to release a lot of pent up anger...' She added cheerfully.

The two men looked at her for a long moment, then Sherlock broke the silence.

'We will have a lot of questions regarding where you learned all this for example... But now, please let Doctor Watson examine you.' He said, staring bemusedly into the girl's unreadable eyes, before turning away and making his way towards the kitchen to make some tea until his friend is preoccupied with Lily.

John cocked his head, looking surprised at the detective. Sherlock. Making. Tea. The world must have come to an end somewhere along the way... But he couldn't help but smile at his friend's unusual behavior. He knew, Sherlock was extremely curious about the girl's case. It was a fascinating new game for him, of course. But until now, neither of the previous cases have became so personal. Murder, robbery, sexual assault. They had all that. A puzzle to solve. A mystery to uncover. But this was the first case to involve someone this intimately. Now, above all the other circumstances, the girl herself seemed to be the most fascinating puzzle. And John knew, that his friend wouldn't let go of this until he solved it. Solved... her? The doctor almost laughed at the thought. Maybe this time his friend could actually learn about affection. Of course, Sherlock loved him, as his best and maybe only friend. Sometimes he even showed his own kind of affection. John knew where to look, and the detective was aware of that. But this time it all came down to basics. Like making a cup of tea for the girl. Maybe Sherlock hasn't even realized, but John knew he was attracted to her. Not in the biblical sense, no... She was a mystery. And Sherlock loved mysteries.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the late update, guys. :) But from now on I can be more frequent... Any request? What would you like to see in this story? Now I have a pretty good idea where the whole thing is going, but I'm open to other suggestions as well. ;) **

'Okay, If you are comfortable with it, I would like to take a look at...the damage. I'm a doctor, as you know.' John said, after all three of them had a big cup of hot tea. Lily still half lay on the sofa, more steady now with the help of the warm liquid full of sugar. She was glad to be out of that concrete and metal hell, but still she was unable to relax completely. For one, she was still on the run from the good ol' Agency, and for two, she was now, with the mark, or marks, and was easily accessible. As that freak of a bureaucrat had clearly presented, by kidnapping her. She wasn't really afraid of these two, tough. John obviously couldn't get over her being poor, injured, and most of all being a "young girl" who is apparently bullied from multiple sides. And the one named as Sherlock – what a strange name – was equally harmless to her. She judged him to be in his thirties, but the vitality he showed could easily be a teenager's. She found him curious, sharp, and strange all in one. She knew, she presented some sort of fascination for the man, but couldn't quite grasp why... She acknowledged – without being vain – that she was good looking. It was in the nature of the female kind, to sense if the other party was attracted to her or not, and she was aware of this leverage, and made use of it if the operation required that kind of tactic. This however, wasn't about sexuality. She made sure to try and make her looks less... desirable, and more importantly less noticeable in a crowd, if she had to blend in, to let's say get rid of a tail. No. This was different.

Maybe she could use this opportunity, to gain some allies. The notion: Friends didn't even occur to her. She was trained to suspect, to not trust anybody completely. To always be on guard and act accordingly. But right now – however reluctant she was to admit – she was taking a huge leap of faith by letting herself be taken care of. Yes. She would stay for now. And leave at night. Tonight.

She made up her mind, and took a deep breath, looking up from her tea cup, when John spoke.

'Yes, sure. Thank you.' She smiled a little as she answered. John could see the tinge of sadness behind that smile. He didn't comment on it. Instead he busied himself with checking the girl's ankle, which was his biggest concern. It was badly swollen, and of a purplish reddish color, which said it was probably twisted, possibly there was some damage to the ligaments, but they were definitely not torn. He asked Sherlock to bring some bandage and a particular cream from the first aid kit, and bandaged the injured foot. Lily was silent through the whole process, and didn't even flinch. She seemed preoccupied to the detective. He couldn't quite tell what she was thinking. Maybe it was just the shock. Maybe she was fabricating some sort of story, for the time when they would demand some answers. Maybe she was thinking about fleeing and leaving the city before the situation was totally out of her control. There were at least a dozen other possibilities.

John finished the bandaging and stood up to step closer to Lily.

'I know it might feel uncomfortable, but I would like you to remove that coat and the tank top. I saw some nasty bruises on your side, and I would like to make sure that none of your ribs are broken.' He said apologetically, and in his usual gentle doctor way.

Lily hesitated for a second, then took off the coat which served to warm, and cover her somewhat. She realized, she liked the feel of the heavy fabric, and the fragrance it emitted felt a little comforting. Heavy and masculine... God, she needed to get out of here.

She bared her upper half, leaving only the simple black bra to keep some of her privacy at least. John could barely suppress a sympathetic gasp, as he saw the dark bruises and the raw skin patches along the girl's right side, almost covering all of it. Lily didn't miss the expression, and smiled a little reassuringly.

'I'm fairly sure I don't have a broken rib, they only dragged me on the concrete, didn't slam me anywhere.' She said, looking curiously at her own skin, studying the the damage. As she sat up and leaned forward to do so, Sherlock, who stood behind the sofa, facing John, frowned and stepped closer. Lily noticed, and stared up at him questioningly.

'What else did Mycroft do?' He asked squinting at her in his own Sherlockian way.

She shook her head. 'Nothing else.'

The detective smiled a little and to John's surprise he reached out with his hand towards Lily's back.

The girl shivered as she felt long cool fingers ghosting over her back gently. She winced as the hand moved over a long red mark. She flashed an uncomfortable expression up at the detective. As their eyes locked she felt the same cold fingers rest ever so gently over the same hurt patch of flesh. It felt good, relaxing. She caught herself leaning back into the touch, and she quickly pulled away, still looking up at the black haired man.

'Whip?' He asked, the same curious expression on his face – John noticed – as when he was trying to solve a mystery, not quite moved by the evident mistreatment from his older brother.

'Riding crop.' Lily answered, with the same unmoved voice.

'What?' Asked John incredulously. He moved to see the back of the girl. The soft light skin was marred in places with long red marks. Some of the hits evidently tore the skin because here and there were evidence of drying blood over the red skin.

After half an hour, Lily lay on her front, on the same sofa, John and Sherlock seated beside her on two armchairs. The doctor had given her a mild drug for the pain, and cleaned the dirt from her wounded skin. The girl had seemed to nod off in the process, so they half covered her with a blanket, leaving her upper half bare to heal. Now they sat in silence, both watching the sleeping form. She seemed angelic, - John noted – dark curly locks falling over her shoulders. The usual guarded manner disappeared from her face in sleep, and she seemed more like an innocent child, than a secret agent.

'Sherlock? What do we do now?' John asked, turning a troubled glance over at his friend.


	7. Chapter 7

The night crept slowly over the city, and the buzzing London traffic dimmed outside. As the darkness settled deep into the labyrinth of streets, Lily woke with a start. Her eyes shot open, and she raised her head to look around, as her hand darted under the pillow, looking for a weapon that wasn't there... She realized her mistake, and let her head fall face first into the soft pillow, with a frustrated growl. Of course, she had no knife hidden close at hand... She wasn't staying in a pre arranged place...

She sat up gingerly, noting that there was a change of clothes waiting for her on one of the armchairs. Silently thanking for the considerate fellow who had prepared them for her, she slipped into the jeans, and the black shirt. Both were men's clothes, probably John's judging from the size, except maybe for the shirt. It had the same smell as the coat she got from Sherlock... A light smile spread across her face as she buttoned the black thing up, and tucked it into the waist of the jeans to make it look less oversized. She looked around the dark room, and spotted John's coat hanging from a kitchen chair. She searched the pockets and found a few notes, which she took. She would return the money once... Once she were safe..

She never saw the tall figure hiding behind the long curtain by the window.

She limped towards the stairs, glancing up, then reached for the door knob, only to find it locked. She swore silently, and walked around the flat once more. When she finally found some suitable equipment to pick the lock, she crouched down by the door, careful of her bandaged foot, and got to work. The air suddenly changed around her, the cool draft from the windows cut off for a moment. She felt the overwhelming presence of someone else in the room. Someone close to her. She slowed her hands and without moving her head, shifted her eyes towards the floor to her right. She saw a shadow that wasn't there before, and a moment later it moved. Her heart rate quickened, adrenaline taking the edge off the pain of her injuries, sharpening her reflexes.

As a hand reached her right shoulder, she grabbed it with her right, spinning around and standing up in the process simultaneously yanking her attacker forward by the arm. She put her left leg in front of the tall man, so he would trip over it, instead of her usual leg sweep which would have had to be done with her right leg. (Absolutely out of the equation right now.)

Unfortunately, she hadn't counted on the man being trained in anything, so when she suddenly found herself in a tangled mass of limbs on the floor, she couldn't quite tell how it was done. She suppressed a whimper as her back was rubbed against the carpet, but couldn't do the same when a leg bumped against her injured one. The struggling promptly stopped, and Lily found herself staring into a sharply angled face, and two light blue orbs. She relaxed her arms, which were held down to the ground just above her head, as she recognized the still fully clothed detective.

'Well, well, well...'Sherlock said, amusement coloring his voice. 'Look who is trying to steal from the good, Dr. Watson.'

Lily could feel the words reverberating in his chest against hers. The detective still pinned her to the ground, one leg between hers, the other across her uninjured one, body pressed against her firmly, but supporting most of his weight with his arms.

The effects of the adrenaline rush started to kick in, as Lily filed away the tall man as a mildly dangerous factor. Her breathing started to slow, in time with her heart rate, and slight trembling coursed through her limbs, then the pain started to ease back into her injuries.

'There is no point in telling you, but still... I will pay it all back.' She said, irritation in her voice. She waited a moment longer for the detective to release her, but when it didn't happen, she raised an eyebrow. 'While I have to say I am slightly tempted by you, I'm not sure it would be in your best interest to let this go further... Or am I wrong?' She asked, lowering her tone, and looking straight into those analytic blue eyes. The curved lips stretched into a small smile at her words.

As an answer, Sherlock released her, and got up from the ground. He wasn't sure what the girl's intention was with the last remark, but for now it wasn't important. He watched as the slim, athletic figure got up from the carpet, and adjusted her – or rather his – shirt. He resisted the urge to reach for her, as she swayed a little before maintaining her balance on her good leg, the bandaged one barely touching the ground. He wasn't sure what to expect when he had set up behind the blinds, but it was definitely worth his time. She was trying to get away. Obviously. But where to? Were there any friends, allies, or maybe an organization she could ask for help? No... That's unlikely. Whatever.. For now, he had to focus on convincing her to stay. _That was part of the deal with Mycroft __after all__.._

'You should stay, you know.' He said motioning towards the kitchen in the process. 'Come, sit down a little, and if you are not convinced after talking, then I will let you leave. I'll even unlock the door for you.'


	8. Chapter 8

"So..." Started Lily when Sherlock and she were seated at the kitchen table. "What do you have to say that will convince me?" She asked finally raising an eyebrow in challenge.

The detective looked at her for a long moment, before speaking. "I won't need to convince you." He replied in a matter of fact tone.

Oh, he is good – thought Lily, smiling a little. "And why not?" She asked playing along.

"Let's look at the facts shall we?" The detective stood up – moving around always helps with thinking – and started to pace. "As I gather you are completely alone, since if you had help, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. - Unless, if this was your plan all along, which I doubt. - You somehow ended up with us, accepting help reluctantly, thinking maybe that nothing would come of it, at least you would have a good meal and a bed for a night. But then you got kidnapped by my brother, who misunderstood your actions. This alone should have been enough demonstration of his power and capabilities. We ended up convincing him of your innocence, giving you another chance to explain yourself properly. And now you are back to square one, where you accept our help, and leave as soon as you get the chance." He finished, and looked at Lily with a disapproving look. "I have to say at first you seemed brilliant, but this is the stupidest thing you could have done."

Lily placed her elbow on the table top and rested her chin in her hand, studying the detective's face. She had tried not to allow herself to think about another option than disappearing, but now it seemed she didn't have a choice. She knew where was this going, and she knew the detective was right. Annoyingly so.

"Go on. Why don't I need convincing?"

The dark haired man's mouth twitched into a smile. "You have trust issues. You automatically went for the option which didn't involve accepting help, or relying on others. This was quite obvious."

Lily kept eye contact without blinking, although this man was getting more and more intimidating with his precise and raw analytical ability. One thing was to know yourself, and another to hear your own analysis from a complete stranger. "You didn't answer." She said defiantly.

"Oh but I did." Sherlock's smile widened. "You are smart. You know that with Mycroft and his little puppets you could stay hidden and protected. You also know that he wouldn't hurt you again, because John and I wouldn't let him. John because he took to you immediately and sees you as someone in need of help, and me because I know that you are not lying in connection with escaping from the CIA and I am not one for unjustified harassment." He finished and sat down sideways to the girl, casually leaning back in his chair, looking at the dim street lights and smiling contentedly.

Lily sighed in defeat.

"You are a dangerous man Mr Holmes. Anyone ever told you that?"

The detective grinned at her. "Please, call me Sherlock."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews everyone! :) I'm glad you are enjoying the story so far. Here is a longer chapter for a change, nothing exciting, mostly playing with the characters a little. This is a story I just let flow wherever my current mood desires it to go... Next will be more excitement (new case on the way, maybe more about Lily's case as well...) and more of the characters getting to know each other.**

**So thank you again, and enjoy! ;) **

Two weeks have passed since that night at the kitchen table. Arrangements were made that allowed Lily to stay with the strange duo, under the constant surveillance of Mycroft. She took care of minor things around the flat, even helping out Mrs Hudson once in a while. Everyday life. She rarely went out in fear of getting noticed. After two weeks it she started to feel an unmistakeable longing to shoot something. She never really had a normal life, and although she was trained to be able to blend in this kind of atmosphere, she was definitely not made for it. She managed somehow to hide her discomfort, the eccentric detective however didn't even try. Two weeks without a case was something Sherlock haven't had in a while. To ease the boredom he started to take long night walks around the shadier parts of the city, hoping for something to pop up. After a long night of rain he came back completely drenched, and already sniffling. Of course John was there to scold him, which slightly amused Lily. The strange pair's presence was comfortable for her somehow, even if they still didn't know each other that well. She wondered how long will this arrangement last...

"Lily, can you take care of him tonight? I have to take a night shift." Said John already putting on his coat and walking to the door. The girl looked up from the sofa – which temporarily served as her bed.

"Of course, don't worry." She smiled encouragingly at the doctor and got up.

"Oh, you are an angel! Make sure he takes the medicine I prepared for him on the nightstand when he wakes up." Then he was gone, storming out to catch a cab.

Lily sighed. In the previous few days she got to know that the crazy detective wasn't the easiest person when ill. He was having a cold, with high fever, and they could hardly keep him in bed on the first day. As a result he got so exhausted by now that he passed out shortly after babbling something about tobacco ashes and posh criminals.

As John stormed away, leaving for work he stopped for a moment at the foot of the stairs. Did he really just leave his friend in the hands of a stranger? When he was so ill he wasn't even aware of his surroundings? It was strange though. He haven't even stopped to think about this unusual situation they got into, until now. A complete stranger was living with them as though it was the most natural thing in the world. This girl, Lily seemed to melt into their everyday lives as if she was always there. Now as he thought about it, she was always in the right place when needed, and otherwise she kept quiet and out of the way. She behaved exactly the way they felt comfortable with. CIA training, most likely.. He almost laughed at the idea. He just couldn't imagine this young girl being a secret agent. It was almost ridiculous. Suddenly a picture of a warehouse flashed into his mind. Mycroft had seemed very keen on making Lily disappear from their lives permanently. He was afraid for their safety. John would go so far as to say – he was afraid of Lily. Or God knows, the CIA. _This is confusing, _he thought. He hesitated for a second more, then continued his hurried steps to the streets. _Think rationally. She has no reason to hurt us. And anyway, she wouldn't be able to with Mycroft breathing down her neck all the time._ He thought about all the surveillance that was available for the older Holmes. _I bet he is watching all the time. What a shame... she is such a nice girl._

Back at the house Lily put down the book she was reading – something about crime in the royal families of Europe, which she found on one of the shelves, when she heard the creaking of the bed from Sherlock's room. She padded quietly to the door, still slightly limping and peeked inside. She could just make out the detective's form, struggling to get up, still obviously dizzy from the fever. Lily watched in amusement as the tall, lanky figure got up and found the light switch, flicking it on. Yellow lamp light washed over the room, including the now slightly squinting man, standing on wobbly legs beside his bed. He looked a bit too pale than usual, his pajamas suffering the effects of the bed and restless sleep. The detective locked eyes with the girl standing at the door and frowned in concentration.

"John went to take a night shift I suppose." He said finally.

"He did." Lily answered, even though she knew it was no question for the detective. She stepped inside, and kept a polite distance from Sherlock as she gestured towards the nightstand. "He left you some medicine to take." She said pointedly, then added. "And you should really sit down."

The man sat with a look of disgust flashed towards the pills on the wooden surface. He hated being weak and incapacitated.

"Let me get you some water." Said Lily before disappearing, then returning with a glass of water. She stepped closer to the man this time, and handed him the water.

The detective accepted it without comment. He paused for a moment to process his thoughts about the curious girl. She always acted as the situation dictated, generally polite and friendly, but Sherlock could see the constant guarded manner with which she moved and the carefully hidden alertness in every single uttered syllable.

He took the pills and washed them down with the cool water, placing the glass on the nightstand, and leaning back against the headboard, still studying the young face of the girl.

Lily stared back at him in much the same manner, and after a moment there was a spark of unspoken agreement between the two – let's call it a draw.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Company. I am bored." Said the detective, for a moment sounding suspiciously like a child. "My brain is rotting away in this terrible..." Lily could see he was looking for the right words which expressed his horrible condition the best. She wasn't expecting what he found fitting. "... peace."

She smiled a little and sat down on the chair beside the bed – left there most certainly by John.

"I can stay if you would like, but I am not the most entertaining company." She said with an almost apologetic tone.

The detective lost his childlike expression and despite his illness, his eyes flashed with a strange light. "Oh, but you are." He said in a low voice.

Lily tensed slightly, but masked it with a questioning glance at the man. "Why would I be? I am hardly unpredictable for you." She remarked with another careful smile.

The blue eyes lit up and Lily could practically see the detective's mind racing.

"You act exactly the way it is expected in every situation." He started, locking eyes with his "prey" of deduction. "Almost as if you could read our thoughts. Your every step is carefully planned, and each plan is carried out with precision. You draw a veil around yourself, a wall so carefully constructed that it is hardly even there." As he carried on his lips slipped into his trademark knowing smile. "You play your part as you are supposed to. I am guessing they trained you to act like this at the CIA, although it could be a natural defense mechanism as well. Either way, it is perfect for what it is for: hiding." He finished, raising an eyebrow in question. "Hiding from what?" He asked, and after a pause he asked again. "Or hiding what?"

Lily at there on the wooden chair, legs crossed casually, face carefully set into a neutral expression. She answered without hesitation. "Nothing."

And Sherlock could somehow feel that she was telling the truth.

"You are the most predictable person." He said after a pause. "And at the same time you are the most unpredictable one." He cocked his head in a curious gesture, his voice careful and analytical. "You do what is most likely done in each situation, your personality, your little faults, likes, and hates, they do not determine your actions. You hide it so thoroughly it is almost impossible. And who knows what to expect when the wall explodes, and the real you makes a decision." He finished quietly.

The girl sat quietly, as tough deep in thought. She knew the detective had a gift for deduction, but she somehow hoped he would just dismiss her as unimportant fact. She was slightly bothered by his straightforward analysis on her.

"Who are you?" Asked the detective finally, searching Lily's distant brown eyes.

The girl smiled again, this time in challenge. This man was searching for her true personality behind the act. She thought about something she heard a while back at the agency. _You can sometimes cause more confusion with the truth, than a perfectly constructed lie. _So she answered again honestly. "I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Oookay... I know it's been ages since the last update, but I was busy with Uni application...:S But here is an extra long chapter for you brilliant people :) Thank you for reading, and the reviews! **

"I don't know."

The words echoed in the detective's head over and over again. He was almost sure that Lily told him the truth, and was completely sure that she meant to puzzle him by doing so. It worked. How could she not know who she was? Amnesia? No. She told John about her origins the first day they met, and she had been telling the truth then. She knew where she came from, she knew her family, her childhood.

_There is something I am missing. _Thought Sherlock, as he lay in bed after the previous night of talk.

The morning came lazily, and aided by medicine and rest, it took away most of the discomfort as well. He considered himself healthy, although he was fairly sure John would disagree. Will disagree.

When he finally got up and made his way to the kitchen, he expected John to be there, and to start complaining about how the detective should not be out of bed yet. When no annoyed comments came, he was a bit surprised. _John should be back from his night shift already._ It occurred to him that maybe he was in his room, but then again _he rarely goes to bed after returning, he prefers watching telly and resting in his armchair. _

An uncomfortable tightness settled in his stomach, although he couldn't quite tell why exactly. Maybe John went on a date with one of his girlfriends, and just happened to stay over. He hesitated for a moment before walking over to the sofa where Lily lay, still fast asleep. She had been sitting by his bed for most of the night, keeping him from being bored, and from getting out of bed. She probably left not long after Sherlock declared that "those useless pills" are making him sleepy against his will. He did fell asleep after that.

"Is something wrong, or is looming a habit of yours?"

The detective's eyes snapped back to Lily, who was still laying on the sofa, looking up at the man standing over her.

"How did I wake you up? I made no sound..." Said Sherlock, frowning at the girl who was very much awake. Lily raised an eyebrow, and briefly looked at the window behind the detective.

"Oh, my shadow. I see. You are a very light sleeper then. Should have expected that." He muttered on, as he sat down in an armchair tapping his fingers on his knee absently.

"Back to the point. What's wrong? Those worry lines on your face are unsettling the least." Lily continued, sitting up on the sofa and brushing her hair back from her face, resting her eyes on the detective.

Sherlock looked at her incredulously and somewhat offended. "I don't have worry lines." But as Lily wasn't the least fazed by his tone, he released an annoyed sigh. "Have you seen John?"

"No, not since he left for work. Why?"

"He hasn't came home yet, and he didn't write a text that he would be late."

Lily's eyes darkened, and she stood up abruptly, circling around the sofa and stopping behind it.

_Defense. She is putting the sofa between her and me._ Noted Sherlock.

"Call him." She said, with voice too calm, almost forced.

Sherlock still looked at her frowning, but dialed John's number. It rang twice before a distorted voice said:

"Mr Sherlock Holmes. Put the phone on speaker."

In a matter of a single moment, thousand possibilities flew through his brain, but he voiced non, face completely devoid of emotion. He did as he was told and put the phone on the coffee table.

"Done." He answered, loud enough so the one on the other end would hear it as well.

"Good. Now, I am sure we are all aware that our agent is in the room with you, and your colleague, Doctor Watson is here with us. We want a simple swap. No questions asked, no one gets hurt. You give the location and the time. If you fail to deliver the girl, we cannot guarantee the safety of your friend."

The call ended and the room was silent.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed, hopping up, and pacing in front of the window excitedly.

Lily for the first time, looked shocked.

"Why would …?" She started, but was cut off by the detective.

"Oh, don't be stupid. You are clever, can't you figure it out?"

"Not with the information that I have." She answered, folding her arms over her chest, and looking at Sherlock expectantly. The pacing man stopped and started at her. "Don't look at me like that, I know you made a deal with your brother, and it concerned me. Out with it."

The detective's phone beeped. He looked at it and showed the text to Lily.

"My brother has eyes on John. We know his location. And we have a little time till we need to call back with a place and time for the swap. Fancy a coffee?"

* * *

><p>"Let me get this straight." Lily said as she raised the huge cup of coffee to her lips. "You made a deal with your brother so he would let me stay with you, and in exchange I need to help find out who ordered you to be dead." She finished, looking straight into calculating blue eyes.<p>

The detective nodded once. "Precisely."

Lily took a deep breath and slowly let it out, mulling over this whole deal. It was of course, reasonable. And that's what worried her the most. It felt too simple, too... given, what with the circumstances and all. And those things that sounded the most simple, were the ones which brought great tragedies with them. Although, she had to admit, that right at that moment, she couldn't see any trap in the plan.

'You are a bright person. You have more brain than most. I'm sure you've already figured out that you don't really have a choice in this matter. 'Sherlock said, looking at the girl intently. His gaze seemed to almost see through the skin and flesh, right into Lily's mind. _Damn, he is good. _She thought.

"All right." She said, determination in her voice. "Deal." _Not that I have many options, with John captive and all..._

Sherlock gave way to a satisfied grin. "Good." He said as he rose from the table with the momentum of a man who is preparing to hurry somewhere. "Now we just have to figure out how to get more information. We know they have John, but it's still unclear who "They" are exactly... As I've said my brother has some ties with the CIA, and he couldn't find anything..."

"That is easy." Chirped the girl.

The detective whirled back towards her, a questioning look on his face.

"How so?"

Lily grimaced. "We make the swap."

"That's a good idea." Said Sherlock, then his brow furrowed. "Why is it a good idea?"

"They would obviously want to eliminate me, tie up loose ends, and so on. They will operate with the knowledge in mind that I Will Be Dead. If they think me no threat, because of my "unavoidable" demise, they would let their guard down. I could get some information. Then we could follow up on the lead... and in the meantime, come up with a plan to get me out of course." Explained Lily impatiently.

Sherlock's frown deepened. "Why would they want to eliminate a foot solider anyway? This whole situation is ridiculous. As I gathered, you were on the lowest level of the food chain, no offense. Why not just let you go? They surly have to know, that you just want to disappear." He said.

Lily just stared at him, stunned. "Don't you know anything about people?'"She asked. When no answer came, she rolled her eyes, annoyed. "They are Humans." She enunciated the last word. "They are afraid."

"Why is that?"

Her eyes narrowed, as if in recognition. This man knew little about the human psyche. Good Lord... How to make him understand?

She sighed, and spread her fingers flat on the table, collecting her thoughts.

"People have fears, doubts. Even if they knew that I was just going to run like hell and start a peaceful but uneventful life somewhere, they can't be sure. Because I am human too. And we Change. We change our mind so often. We do things totally out of character. We are driven to unimaginable things by emotions. Passion, fear, love..." She explained. When she didn't get a reaction, she started again. _Okay... Let's put myself into his shoes. How to make a practical, analytical, and emotionally seemingly shallow mad scientist understand? _

Then she started, getting an idea from the dozens of chemical stuff in the kitchen. "Imagine a stick and fire. The effect of the two put together is utterly predictable. Any way you combine them, the fire will consume the stick, and it will become ash. Substitute the two with a person and a situation. The person is the stick, the situation is the fire. So we know, that a person's reaction to a certain situation will always be the same.' She kept eye contact with the detective, know having all his attention. 'But what if, we add something else in the equation? For example. If we dip the stick into oil. The fire will catch it faster, it will burn with a more fierce flame, thus changing the effect. Or if we cloak the stick with some nonburnable material, then it will not burn, so that too changes the outcome. These circumstances can be translated into those emotional effects that forms the human behavior." She finished, looking expectantly at the detective. "Do you get it now?"

Sherlock just stared at her, dumbfounded. Sure, he was aware that his knowledge of human psyche was not equal to that of his knowledge on biology or chemistry, or crime related subjects. Bit still it felt a little humiliating to have himself lectured on this subject. Well, well... Everything for the sake of learning. And this girl seemed like a capable teacher.

"It is, clearer now." He assured, then cocked his head to one side. "You've learned psychology, I presume."

Lily stood up, and walked to the window, just to do something. She couldn't sit still for too long, she was still too agitated. She was fighting her instincts to flee. She smiled as she imagined her head as a little factory of reason and thought. She pictured as bright red alarm bells went off in her head. She was always so visual...

She stopped by the window and stared out longingly.

'It was part of the training.' She answered.

A moment of silence followed, then Sherlock stepped closer, hands in his trousers' pockets. - He dressed before sitting down for a coffee.

"Only one question is left." He said slowly, stopping behind Lily. "Why do you risk yourself for John?"


End file.
